


Farms and Estates

by nlans



Series: Cecily Trevelyan [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nlans/pseuds/nlans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The  Commander and the Inquisitor seem an ideal match when they're in Skyhold. But Cullen's family never imagined him bringing a Bann's daughter to South Reach--and will Cecily's family accept a farmer's son?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters from South Reach

_Dear Mia,_

_I hope you will be pleased by what I am about to say, since you have been hinting at it for months. I am planning to visit you in South Reach. Would three weeks from now be suitable?_

_I will be bringing someone with me. Her name is Cecily Trevelyan (you may know her as the Inquisitor). I hope this will not prove inconvenient, but I would like very much for you all to meet her._

_Love, Cullen_

_*_

_Dear Cullen,_

_First: I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear you will visit us for the first time in a very long time (yes, I am underlining that)._

_Second: Maker’s breath, brother, you’re giving us three weeks’ warning that the Inquisitor—THE INQUISITOR—will be joining you?_

_Cullen, we cannot hope to entertain someone of that station. It would be bad enough if she were merely Bann Trevelyan’s daughter, let alone the leader of your Inquisition. You are asking us to play host to one of the most powerful women in Thedas. Where will she sleep? Shall we set her up a cot in the hayloft alongside yours? (I ask not because this is a serious option, but to illustrate how ill-prepared we are for such a visit.)_

_It is kind of you to offer us the chance to meet the Inquisitor, but if that is your object, surely it would be better for us to visit you in Skyhold? We will make the journey gladly in order to see you again._

_Your loving but frazzled sister,_

_Mia_

_*_

_Dear Mia,_

_I apologize. I was obviously unclear in my last letter. Cecily will be joining me not as the Inquisitor, but as the woman I love—a woman who, for some reason, loves me in return. She has agreed to come to South Reach because I want her to meet my family._

_I know this may sound strange, but Cecily is just as nervous about meeting you as you are about meeting her. She is terribly shy around strangers and may seem formal at first. Our friend Dorian once compared Cecy to a mirror. If you are anxious, she will be anxious. If you are at ease with her, she will be at ease with you._

_Don’t worry about providing grand accommodations or entertainment. Give her the same welcome you would give me (perhaps with less teasing)._

_Your brother, Cullen_

_P.S.: Cecy says the cot in the hayloft alongside mine will do nicely, thank you._

_*_

_Dear Cullen,_

_Well. You have rendered me speechless (an unusual condition for me, as you know). Your letters from Skyhold were all very welcome, as they assured me you were alive, but you somehow found room to describe uniforms and requisitions and supply routes— supply routes—and you never let on that there was a woman in your life, or that it was the Inquisitor? We need to have a discussion about what sort of news you ought to include in your letters home._

_I look forward to meeting your Cecily. We will try to be at ease with her, although I cannot promise we will be entirely successful. Rumor claims she has killed four dragons, after all._

_Your loving sister, Mia_

_P.S.: If you actually asked the Inquisitor about whether she would agree to sleep on a cot in our hayloft, I will make you pay._

_*_

_Dear Mia,_

_Thank you. We will see you next week._

_Love, Cullen_

_P.S.: It is six dragons now. I only mention this because she will not, and I am very proud of her._


	2. The Rutherfords

“Hush, little badger. Hush-hush-hush! Look, your Uncle Cullen has come to visit—ow!”

Mia had not planned for “Don’t bite Mummy, that’s not nice!” to be the first words her brother heard from her in over twenty years, but apparently the Maker had an odd sense of humor, because Cullen’s horse reached the house just as she said them.

“Here, love, let me,” Devon said, taking Thomas from her. “You go greet your brother. I’ll handle the little monster.”

He let their son down and followed as the toddler waddled away. The strange man dismounting his horse was not nearly as fascinating as the nearby geese, apparently. Mia watched them go, then turned her attention to her brother.

She hoped her shock didn’t show on her face. She would have recognized Cullen anywhere—still the same golden eyes and coarse blond curls—but he looked older than she thought he should, more careworn. And so tall, and so large! They had been of a height the last time she’d seen him, but now she barely came up to his collarbone, and his shoulders seemed almost twice the width of hers.

She wondered how she’d changed in his eyes.

Then he smiled at her, and he was thirteen and she was fifteen again, and everything was just as it should be. “Mia!”

She ran to him and pulled him into a fierce hug. “Welcome—well, not home, exactly. But we are _so_ glad you’re here, little brother.”

“Mother and Father?” he asked anxiously.

“Inside. Mother is fussing over some refreshments for you and …” she trailed off as a second horse pulled to a halt in front of them.

The newcomer dismounted with ease, clearly an experienced rider, and moved to join them. The woman was a few years younger than Cullen, about Mia’s height, with wide gray eyes and dark blonde hair pinned back from her face in a neat knot. Her smile was pleasant but seemed a bit fixed.

Cullen extended his hand and drew her forward. “Mia, this is Cecily.”

The Inquisitor— _the bloody Inquisitor, Andraste preserve me_ —raised her right hand in a tentative little wave. “Hello, Mia. Cullen has told me a lot about you. I’m very glad to meet you.”

 _If you are at ease with her, she will be at ease with you._ Well, it was worth a try.

“How strange!” Mia said warmly, taking Cecily’s hands in hers. “Because he has told me _nothing_ about you, other than that you’ve killed six dragons and he loves you. Both of which make you very welcome here. Mostly the latter.”

Cecily’s expression relaxed; she squeezed Mia’s fingers. “Thank you so much for inviting me into your home.”

“This is actually our parents’ home—they insisted on their darling son staying with them,” Mia explained. “My husband Devon and I live about a half mile down the road, on the next farm over. That’s Devon over there with our youngest, Thomas. I’m afraid Thomas was more interested in the birds than he was in his Uncle Cullen.”

Cullen chuckled. “Understandable, I suppose.”

“And your other children?” Cecily asked.

“I think they are feeding my parents’ chickens. Emma is ten, and William is eight. Thomas was something of a surprise,” Mia said candidly, before wondering if she shouldn’t. She had no idea what was and was not appropriate to discuss with a Bann’s daughter. But Cecily did not seem overly scandalized.

“Well, come inside, quickly. Mother and Father will have my head on a spit if I keep you all to myself for more than a minute.”

 

* * *

 

The knots in Cecily’s stomach were slowly unraveling. The welcome from Cullen’s mother Delia made Mia’s look almost frosty; she wrapped Cecily in a generous hug and said “Well, aren’t you pretty! My son is terribly lucky.” Cullen’s father Graham was slightly more gruff, but he greeted Cullen with the same nod and the same stiffness in his expression, and Cecily suspected that he was simply a reserved man overcome with emotion at seeing his son for the first time in two decades.

When she spotted an opening, Cecily drifted out of the room to let Cullen’s family have their son and brother to themselves. She found Devon outside, still following the baby around, but now joined by his other children.

The two older children stared at her. Devon nodded at her, then looked a bit alarmed and bowed. “My Lady Inquisitor. What can we do for you?”

“I just thought they might like some time alone. It’s been a long while since Cullen saw his parents, or Mia. And please do call me Cecily,” she said anxiously. _Please._ “I don’t believe I’ve met your other children yet.”

Emma and William were introduced in turn. William was his dark-haired father all over again, but Emma’s golden eyes and tight blond curls were so close to Mia’s—to Cullen’s—that Cecily instinctively wanted to give the girl a hug.

William spoke first. “It’s hot. Why are you wearing gloves?”

Cecily blinked at him for a moment, but answered candidly. “Because there’s a funny mark on my hand. Sometimes people don’t like looking at it, it makes them uncomfortable.”

William’s mouth dropped open in awe. “Can _I_ see it? Please?”

Cecily glanced over at Devon, who looked back at her with faint alarm _._ “William, I’m not sure that’s polite.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cecily assured the boy when his face fell. “If your father has no objections, I’d be happy to show you.” She gripped the fingertips of her left glove and pulled it off, revealing the anchor, and held out her hand palm-up for the boy to examine.

William’s eyes went wide. “Oooooh, it’s _green_. Do you have that because you’re a mage?”

“No, it’s not because I’m a mage. I … got it by accident,” Cecily said. _Skipped some parts of the story, I suppose, but that’s basically the truth._ “But it was a good thing, because it meant I could help close the rifts.”

She looked over and spotted Emma staring at her hand. Self-consciously, she began to slide her hand back into the glove.

“You don’t have to do that,” Emma said suddenly. “It doesn’t bother _me._ ” She tilted her chin up bravely.

“Not me either!” William said quickly.

“Well, then, in that case, I suppose it is a bit silly to wear gloves when it’s so warm,” Cecily said, smiling. She stripped them both off and tucked them into the pocket of her riding coat. “Now then. Do you think you could show me around your grandparents’ farm?”

 

* * *

 

Cullen hadn’t entirely known what to expect when he visited South Reach. Twenty years was a very long time, and so much had happened to him—Kinloch Hold, Kirkwall, the lyrium and its aftermath. He was so different from the idealistic boy he’d been when he had left Honnleath that he could not help but suspect … well, that he would be a disappointment to them.

The conversation had some awkward pauses, and there were things that Cullen just could not bring himself to tell his family—they asked about the Ferelden Circle and he did not lie, exactly, but omitted everything of significance. But they were the same wonderfully kind people they had been when he left Honnleath.

And Mia, his infuriating, bossy, splendid older sister, was a marvel—still sharp-tongued and determined and observant. It was Mia who forcibly changed the subject away from Kinloch Hold, and Mia who deflected his mother’s unsubtle attempts to determine whether Cullen planned to marry Cecily.

Unfortunately, Graham also had some thoughts on that subject. “Have you met _her_ family yet?”

Cullen shook his head. “No, I’ve not had the pleasure.”

“They’re nobles, I’ve heard.” Graham looked at him, his expression serious and slightly pitying. “I’d think well on that before you assume too permanent a future with a Bann’s daughter.”

Cullen flinched. “You do not know her.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” Graham said quickly. “And the fact that she came here says a great deal about her feelings for you. But like as not, her family won’t take to you. I just want you to be prepared.”

That was, in fact, Cullen’s greatest fear, the reason he had started changing the subject every time Cecily mentioned Ostwick or her family.

“Father, the woman has killed six dragons and fixed a giant hole in the sky,” Mia said sharply. “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that she won’t be scared off by parental disapproval. I know I wasn’t,” she joked. “You threatened to stick Devon with a pitchfork if he kept courting me, if I remember correctly.”

Delia patted her husband’s hand. “He came around eventually.”

“And so will the Trevelyans. _If_ they disapprove. Which they won’t, because Cullen is wonderful.”

Tears pricked at the back of Cullen’s eyes; he blinked them away and gave his sister a grateful smile. “I shall tell them you said so.”

“Where is your Cecily, by the way?” Mia asked suddenly. “It was kind of her to let us have you to ourselves, but she must be terribly bored by now.”

“I’m sure this is not the standard of entertainment she’s used to, either,” Delia murmured, suddenly ill at ease.

By some silent agreement, they all rose from the table and went outside to make sure things were all right.

Devon was nowhere to be seen, but Cecily and the children were together in the field out in front of his parents’ farm, playing some sort of game. William was curled on the ground, pretending to sleep, as Emma and Cecily snuck up on him. Baby Thomas was toddling about, trying to sneak with the girls but not entirely understanding that he was supposed to move slowly; he kept running from Emma to William and back again.

“Mister bear, are you awake?” the girls chanted, inching closer. “Mister bear, are you awake? Mister bear, are you awake …. Aiiieeeee!”

With a broad grin, William sprang to his feet and began chasing them. Emma sprinted for a nearby tree; Cecily pretended to run, but Cullen knew that she was letting William catch her.

“Aargh!” she shrieked when William tagged her back. “The bear got me!”

“Aaaaaargh bear!” agreed baby Thomas, running in circles.  

“Now you’re the bear, Cecily!” said Emma.

“What are you little villains doing to our guest?” Mia scolded playfully. “And where is your father?”

“A neighbor came by and asked for Devon’s help herding a lost pig back to his farm,” Cecily said, her cheeks prettily flushed from the running. “I offered to look after the children for a bit. They know a number of very excellent games.”

“Did you see Cecily’s hand? It’s green, Mama,” William said, as if this were the most important news he could imagine ever relaying in his life.

Cullen saw Cecily’s left hand open and close nervously. Mia, bless her, didn’t blink. “So I’ve heard. Now, go to the well and get us some water to wash up for dinner.”

“Cecily can come with us. She needs to wash up too,” Emma said imperiously.

“I do indeed. So does your Uncle Cullen, I believe,” Cecily said, smiling at him.

His heart warm, Cullen went to join them.

*           

“You’re very good with children,” Cullen murmured that night as they lay in bed, Cecily’s hand resting against his chest. After a lengthy argument, they had dissuaded Cullen’s parents from surrendering their bed; the two of them were, indeed, laying side-by-side on cots in the hayloft. “I don’t think I knew that about you.”

“I used to teach the children in the Circle,” Cecily explained. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed that until now.”

She paused. “Are you having a nice visit?” she asked anxiously. “I like your family. But perhaps I shouldn’t have come—I can’t help but feel that I’m in the way. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you.”

Cullen turned on his side so he could wrap his arm around her waist. “Which is why it helps so much that you’re here,” he said. “It is wonderful to see them again. And difficult. They couldn’t possibly understand everything that’s happened to me since I saw them last. I wouldn’t _want_ them to understand. It helps to have someone I can admit that to—someone who already knows everything I want to keep from them.”

He smiled. “Besides, if I hadn’t brought you, I don’t think they would have believed me when I told them how splendid you are. And who would be the bear?” William had reminded them at least three times at dinner that tomorrow it was Cecily’s turn to be the bear.

“Are you inviting me to comment on that fur collar of yours?” Cecily teased.

Cullen leaned forward and kissed her. “Cecy … when we get back to Skyhold, why don’t you write to your parents and find a time for us to visit Ostwick?” _It will have to happen some day, given what I intend._ He had not deflected questions about whether he planned to marry Cecily out of uncertainty; he knew he wanted to be her husband. But it hadn’t seemed right to tell his family of his plans before he'd so much as mentioned the word "marriage" to Cecy. And, he realized, some small part of him—the part that was always waiting for disaster to strike—was afraid to ask before he knew how her family would react, and how Cecy would react in turn.

If Cecily saw his pessimism, she didn’t show it; instead, she beamed. “I would like that. And I think they would too.”

Cullen had his doubts about that, but he kissed her again, and kept them to himself.

 

* * *

 

Cullen’s sister Anna and his brother Braden arrived the next day. Neither had brought their families, which Cecily was quietly glad for. She liked the Rutherfords but it was already rather a lot of strangers to keep track of. And both Braden and Anna seemed to regard her with some suspicion. She tried to be friendly but suspected she was failing; when faced with their obvious discomfort she got tongue-tied and wound up sounding awfully stuffy. And Cullen’s father was no warmer to her than he’d been the previous day. Fortunately the children still seemed to find her amusing, especially after she showed Emma how she could turn a cup of water into an ice flower with her magic, but after lunch Devon took Emma, William, and Thomas back to their home to do some chores. Cecily barely choked back an offer to do their chores for them if they promised not to abandon her.

Mid-afternoon, Mia interrupted a particularly awkward conversation about how many rooms the Trevelyan estate in Ostwick had—Cecily’s best guess was “probably more than thirty,” but Braden seemed to want a more specific answer and would not let the subject go—and announced, “Well, I suppose someone ought to start preparing our dinner. Cecily, would you mind lending me an extra pair of hands?”

Anna frowned. “Mia, I’m perfectly happy to—“

Cecily stood. “You just arrived, Anna. Please, stay.”

She followed Mia into the kitchen, trying not to show how grateful she was for the escape. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

Mia blinked at her. “I—oh. I didn’t actually expect you to work!” she laughed. “I just thought you could use some quiet.”

Cecily decided not to admit that out loud. “I could clean and cut the vegetables?” she suggested. “At the Circle, they used to make us work for our cook, Nance, as a punishment. I got rather good at vegetables.”

Mia raised her eyebrows. “I would not have picked you for a rule-breaker,” she said.

“Oh, I wasn’t. I was disgustingly obedient, in fact. My best friend Kalli, on the other hand, was an accomplished troublemaker,” Cecily laughed. “I’d go to keep her company. Nance let me stay so long as I was useful.”

“I forget that you haven’t had a typical noble’s upbringing,” Mia said, half to herself. “If you’re willing, the knife is over there.”

Cecily was halfway through the pile of carrots when she got up her courage and asked, “Mia. Anna and Braden and your father seem—uncomfortable with me. Have I done something to offend them?”

Mia sighed. “No, you haven’t. But you’re right, they are uncomfortable. They—well. Bluntly put, they’re afraid you’re going to break my brother’s heart.”

“Do I truly seem so callous?” Cecily asked, surprised. She knew she wasn’t terribly good with people, but she hadn’t anticipated that reaction.

“It’s not about you at all, not you as Cecily anyway. It’s about you as Bann Trevelyan’s daughter.” When Cecily looked puzzled, Mia sighed with a bit of exasperation. “Surely it’s occurred to you that your parents may not approve of my brother.”

“Well, it hadn’t occurred to me to _care_ ,” Cecily replied, more sharply than she intended. “I love my parents,” she said, softening her tone. “And I actually think they’ll respect what Cullen’s accomplished. But he’s not for them to approve or disapprove. We didn’t go through everything that happened at the Inquisition just to let my father’s title ruin things.”

Mia smiled at her. “That’s what I thought. Don’t worry. I like you, my children adore you, and most importantly, my brother loves you. The others will come around.”

Cecily turned back to her pile of carrots, reassured, but also newly worried. It occurred to her that while she loved her parents, she did not know them terribly well. She’d only seen them twice a year from the time she was twelve until the year she turned twenty-three, and then not at all for the past six years. She had no idea how her parents would react to learning that their potential son-in-law was a Ferelden farmer’s son. She hoped they would admire what he’d done for the Inquisition, but how could she be certain?

_I think the Rutherfords will come around. But what about Mother and Father?_


	3. Letters from Ostwick

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_At last, things at the Inquisition seem to have slowed to a steadier pace. I would love to visit you in Ostwick. Are there times in the coming months that would be particularly convenient?_

_I will be bringing someone with me. Commander Cullen Rutherford is the head of the Inquisition’s armies and we have been courting for some months now. I am certain you will like him; he has distinguished himself in service to the Chantry many times over, and he is a personal friend of Divine Victoria. He is looking forward to meeting you._

_I miss you all terribly and hope to see you soon._

_Love, Cecy_

 *

_Dear Evie,_

_I have just written to Mother and Father to arrange a visit. I need your help. I am bringing Cullen with me and he is worried half sick that they will not approve. I am worried as well. Cullen is a respected military commander, but he has no title outside the Inquisition and no noble connections outside the Chantry. I truly do not know how Mother and Father will react._

_It would sadden me terribly if Mother and Father disapproved of Cullen, because my choice is made. Can you give me some warning as to what we might expect?_

_Love, Cecy_

_*_

_Dear Cecy,_

_You worry too much, and so does your Commander. Are you certain the two of you are a good match? (I am joking. You are obviously mad about the man, and if he’s half as mad about you I doubt anything could pry you apart.)_

_Give Mother and Father credit for a modicum of common sense. You are the head of the Inquisition; I am sure they do not entertain the illusion that they can keep you from anything you want. But I know that’s not what you are worried about. You’re worried that they will make him feel unwelcome. So I promise you they will not._

_In short, leave Mother and Father to me and come as soon as you can. I am so excited to see you that I can hardly sleep._

_Love, Evie_

_*_

_Dearest Cecily,_

_We will be in Ostwick for the next six months. Please come home whenever you like. Tomorrow would be especially convenient—or today if you can manage it. We cannot wait to see you._

_We look forward to meeting the Inquisition’s Commander._

_Love, Mother and Father_


	4. The Estate in Ostwick

It was a full month before Cecily and Cullen finally made it to Ostwick. Josephine was appalled that they were thinking of visiting Cecily’s prominent family with no honor guard or household staff of their own, and she spent a solid week selecting the appropriate people to accompany the Inquisitor and the Commander. More letters were exchanged; Cecily’s parents assured them there would be plenty of space for their people. Then plans were put on hold when another dragon appeared in Crestwood. Meanwhile, there were more letters between the Trevelyans and Josephine about exactly what Cullen’s Chantry rank was. The ostensible excuse for this was about his seating at a dinner party they wished to host. Cullen could not help but hear something else behind the query.

But he knew how much the visit meant to Cecily, so he gritted his teeth and pretended he was not dreading it.

The Trevelyans sent carriages to meet the Inquisition’s people at the passenger docks in the Free Marches—the most lavishly comfortable ones Cullen had ever seen, prominently emblazoned with House Trevelyan’s crest. He knew it for a kind gesture, but seeing the blasted things made him nervous all over again.

“So I call your father Bann Alexander,” he said as the carriage bounced along the road. “And your mother is Lady Trevelyan. And your sister is Lady Evelyn, and your brother is Lord Edmund, and his wife is Lady Lyssa.”

“Almost. Edmund is Lord Trevelyan because he’s the heir. But the others were all correct,” Cecily said. She plucked the fabric of her riding skirt anxiously. “Cullen. You know that no matter what happens, nothing they say or do or imply or—or _anything_ else will change the fact that I love you.”

“Indeed? I had no idea! I must have been ignoring you the first fifty times you said so,” he said, taking her hand and offering her a gentle, teasing smile, his own nerves momentarily forgotten. “I know, Cecy. But it would pain me to cause strife between you and your family.”

“There won’t be any strife,” Cecily said, sounding almost certain. “I wish you wouldn’t fret about this. Evie says things will be fine.”

Cecily’s sister Evie struck Cullen as something of an optimist, although the memory of her lively letters and sketches did make him smile, and he’d heard Leliana and Josephine speak very highly of her reports from the Free Marches. He hoped there would be at least one member of House Trevelyan who did not hate him on sight.

When they were roughly a half hour away from the Trevelyan estate, Cullen’s ears picked up a new set of hoofbeats, coming at them rather more quickly than he was comfortable with. He opened the curtains and spotted a horse dashing towards them, a single rider on its back, lying almost flat against the horse’s neck to encourage the breakneck gallop.

Cecily followed his gaze. “It’s Evie!” she said immediately. “It must be. Stop the carriage!” she shouted out the window.

A moment later, the carriage was stopped and the rider had pulled up alongside them. She all but leapt off her horse and pulled her riding helmet from her head, revealing thick black curls coiled into a braid and gray eyes that were a perfect mirror of Cecily’s.

Cecily tumbled out of the carriage so quickly that she missed the bottom step and nearly fell. “Evie! I hoped it was you.”

“Of course it’s me. I couldn’t let anyone else be the first to see you. Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” the younger woman scolded.

Cecily was laughing and crying at the same time, something Cullen had never seen her do before. “You are so beautiful!” she said, wrapping her arms around her sister and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “And you ride like a madwoman.”

“Says the woman who fights dragons,” Evie retorted, stepping back to take a good look at Cecily. She was a few inches shorter than her older sister, compact and wiry, and dark where Cecy was fair, but Cullen could see the kinship in their eyes and their smiles. “I hardly know what to ask you first! It is so good to see you.” She turned to Cullen with a broad grin. “And this must be your Commander.”

“Cullen, this wild tomboy is my baby sister Evie, also known to the Inquisition as Crofter,” Cecily said wryly. “But do not tell my parents the last bit.”

He climbed down from the carriage and bowed. “Lady Evelyn.”

The little noblewoman stepped forward as he straightened, caught his shoulders, and to his surprise, kissed him on both cheeks. “Call me Evie. Can I call you Cullen? Or is that terribly insulting to the Inquisition?”

“No, of course not,” he said, returning her smile. “Cullen is fine.”

“Good,” Evie said approvingly. “Now then. Let’s go home. Mother and Father have been waiting for you in the foyer since breakfast.”

*

Bann Alexander and Lady Trevelyan were not waiting in the foyer. They were waiting outside their estate with footmen and serving maids lined up outside the door to greet their guests. Cullen’s stomach clenched when he saw the display—the Trevelyan manor would have dwarfed the chantry in Haven where the Inquisition had made its first home, and the Trevelyans had more servants than he had family members. He realized, suddenly, that Josephine had been right to insist on sending servants and guards of their own. Bringing their own people signaled the Inquisition’s status, and therefore his, in a language that the nobility understood. He reminded himself to apologize for his grousing when they returned to Skyhold.

Lady Sophia Trevelyan was dark-haired and small like Evie, with warm brown eyes and a lively face. Cecily took more after her father, a slim, solemn man with graying hair and the same cloud-colored eyes as his daughters. For a moment after Cecily climbed out of the carriage, she and her parents merely stared at one another, as if no one could quite believe what was happening. Then Bann Alexander held out his hands. “My darling girl. Welcome home.”

The Trevelyans quickly dismissed their servants to various tasks and ushered Cecily and Cullen inside. Once the door was shut, the family looked around at each other, the silence growing louder and more profound with each passing heartbeat. Then Lady Trevelyan burst into tears and flung her arms around Cecily. Her father folded both of the women into one embrace and Evie quickly threw her own arms around the little group. Cullen looked to the side and tried not to seem intrusive.

“Mother, Father, this is Commander Cullen Rutherford,” Cecily said after a long moment, wiping her eyes as her family stepped back. “Cullen, this is my mother, Lady Sophia Trevelyan, and my father, Bann Alexander Trevelyan.”

Cullen bowed. “Lady Trevelyan. Bann Alexander. I am honored.”

The Bann inclined his head respectfully. “Commander. Welcome to Ostwick.”

“I trust the trip was not too tiring?” Lady Trevelyan said with a smile. “Let’s see. It’s nearly five now, but that’s plenty of time for you both to wash and dress for dinner at half six. Just family tonight—the five of us, Edmund, and Lyssa. We want our girl all to ourselves,” she said, patting Cecily’s hand.

“That sounds lovely,” Cullen said, because that was the only possible response.

“Very well. Evie, you can show Cecy to her room. Caleb, would you please show the Commander to the guest wing?”

A young footman suddenly appeared at Cullen’s side. “If you’ll follow me, Commander?”

Cullen allowed himself one last glance at Cecy; she frowned apologetically as he was whisked away, and he smiled at her, trying to look as if he were nowhere near panicking, really. Caleb led him up a long staircase to the west of the foyer, down a hall, and to a lavish, comfortable room where his luggage had already been brought.

“Would you like a bath drawn, ser?” the servant asked him with a little bow.

“I, ah, yes. Please,” he said. He supposed he would feel less out of place if he rid himself of the dust from the road.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve put you in your old room,” Evie told Cecy when they returned to the family wing. She stopped halfway down the hall and pushed open a strange-yet-familiar door. “I don’t think anyone else has slept in here since you went away. I imagine they’re already drawing you a bath, is that all right?”

Cecily barely heard her sister. Instead, she was experiencing a bizarre sense of lost time as she looked around her childhood room. The bedclothes had been freshened and her toys had been put away, but her books were still in place, her beloved little desk with its one splintered leg was still there, and her window still looked out onto a tall, blossoming tree. “I never thought—I never thought I’d be here again,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “Maker’s breath, I don’t usually cry this much.”

“Cry all you want,” Evie said cheerfully. “It helps me forget that you’re a terrifying, dragon-slaying Inquisitor now.”

“And what are you going to do to help me forget that you’re a dangerous Inquisition spy now?” Cecily asked, wiping the corners of her eyes with her thumb for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

“Nothing, because I am extremely proud of myself.” Evie gave Cecily one last kiss as the door opened to reveal the incoming bath. “And of you. I’ll be back in an hour to do your hair for dinner. I’ll want to hear _all_ about your Commander.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen took his bath, scrubbing himself almost red out of anxiety, and then dressed for dinner in one of the coats that Josephine had had the tailor make for him. She had helpfully pinned notes to each garment—“Family dinner,” “Formal dinner party,” “Hunting”—indicating which event each was for. Cullen wanted to be insulted, but instead he was simply grateful. Caleb returned for him shortly before dinner was to be served to escort him to the dining room. Cullen squared his shoulders as if headed into battle before he stepped through the door and took the seat meant for him, between Cecily and Evie and across the table from two people Cullen had not yet met.

Cecily’s older brother Edmund, the heir to the Bannorn, was a handsome man who took strongly after his mother; his wife Lyssa was a beautiful, raven-haired woman a year or two younger than Cecily. Cullen quickly gathered that Evie considered her sister-in-law a bit of a bore. After speaking briefly to the woman he couldn’t help but agree. Lyssa’s conversation was filled with shoes and ribbons and the latest gossip on who was courting whom in the Marcher nobility. Edmund clearly adored her, though, so Cullen quietly wished the two of them well and pretended to be interested in the latest Val Royeaux fashions.

At his right, Bann Alexander and Lady Trevelyan were deep in conversation with their eldest daughter, asking questions about the Inquisition and Divine Victoria and what exactly had happened at Ostwick since they had last been permitted to visit. Both of Cecily’s parents were staring at her as if she were a desert oasis and they had been dying of thirst. Their open gladness at seeing her again was touching, and understandable, but Cullen could also feel Cecy stiffening a bit under the intensity of their gaze. As the Inquisitor, he knew, she survived scrutiny by forcing herself not to care what most people thought of her. She did not have that option with the parents she loved and had not seen in years.

Lyssa was looking at him expectantly; Cullen realized he had missed a question. “I’m sorry, Lady Lyssa. Could you repeat that?”

“I have relatives in the Ferelden Bannorn—do you suppose they might know your family?” she asked, a bright smile on her red lips.

“I, er, doubt it,” Cullen said, feeling his frame tense. “I grew up in Honnleath, but my family moved to South Reach during the Blight. They are farmers.”

Lyssa’s dark eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Edmund had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

“I told you that, I’m certain,” Evie said, a hint of warning in her tone.

“I thought it was one of your _jokes,_ ” Lyssa said plaintively. “The Inquisition’s Commander was a _farmer_? And your sister brought him … I mean to say, it scarcely seemed … well.” She blushed. “I thought he was courting her.”

“I am,” Cullen said, his voice sounding low and far away.

“He _is_ ,” Evie said simultaneously, and much more forcefully.

“But how could they marry?” Lyssa asked, looking between Cullen and Cecily.

“Mages are allowed to marry now. Divine Victoria made a proclamation and everything,” Evie said. Her smile was dangerously sweet.

Lyssa could not seem to stop herself. “But—I—I meant—But she’s still Bann Alexander’s daughter, and he’s still …”

“The Commander of one of Thedas’s most respected military forces, who has also distinguished himself in service to the Templar Order,” Bann Alexander suddenly said, shifting his attention to their end of the table. “Or so I am given to understand.”

Cullen didn’t feel he’d distinguished himself as a Templar, particularly, although he was grateful to the Bann for the interruption. He deflected the issue by saying, “I was a Templar for many years before Cassandra—er, the Right Hand of the Divine recruited me to the Inquisition, yes.”

“I wanted to be a Templar when I was a boy,” Edmund said, a bit too loudly. “I had two uncles in the Templars and a whole passel of cousins. It seemed very exciting and heroic. Imagine my disappointment when I learned only younger Trevelyans were given to the Chantry!”

“You missed many years of sleeping in barracks and polishing overlarge shields, my Lord,” Cullen said.

“And guarding mages. Like Cecily,” Edmund said, his expression suddenly sober. “That would have been damned awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“As awkward as this conversation?” Evie muttered under her breath.

Cullen looked over at Cecy; her face was smooth and blank. He suspected she was picturing the same thing he was: Edmund as a Red Templar. She could have been forced to strike down her own brother just as she had been forced to do for Carroll and Paxley and so many of Cullen’s former comrades.

Maker _,_ had any of those ruined creatures been relatives of Cecily’s? Cullen set down his glass to conceal the shake in his hand. He noticed Cecily’s own hands twisting the napkin in her lap.

“Alas for your hopes, you were condemned to a lifetime as your father’s heir and the future Bann,” Lady Trevelyan teased archly, cutting the tension. “Shall we take an after-dinner brandy in the drawing room?”

Mercifully, the evening broke up soon after that; Edmund and Lyssa said their goodbyes to return to their own home in Ostwick. Lyssa still seemed almost mute with confusion over the idea that her famous sister-in-law had brought a farmer’s son to the Trevelyans’ table, although Cullen found it in his heart to feel a bit sorry for her obvious bafflement. He knew it wasn’t unkindly meant; it was simply the consequence of growing up in a world where someone like Cecily was as likely to announce her engagement to a potted plant as bring home someone whose parents rose before dawn to tend crops.

An uneasy silence fell as the remaining Trevelyans and Cullen tried to decide what to say.

“Why don’t we go hunting tomorrow?” Evie suggested after a long pause.

“So you can show off your skill with a bow?” Cecily teased—a bit too brightly, but Cullen could tell she was grateful that someone had broken the silence.

Lady Trevelyan laughed at that. “Of course she intends to show off! But it’s still a fine idea. The weather has been lovely. I’ll have our cook pack a picnic lunch for the five of us—if you’re interested, Commander?” she asked. “You needn’t hunt. Cecy and I used to simply enjoy the ride and then eat all of the cakes.”

Cecily smiled. “I’d forgotten! We did, didn’t we?”

Cullen briefly considered declining the invitation—perhaps Cecy and her family might like to be together without an outsider in their midst, and he would not have minded some time alone after tonight—but when he caught her eye, her expression was so hopeful that he knew she wanted him to say yes.

“I’d be delighted, Lady Trevelyan,” he said, with only a bit of exaggeration.

 

* * *

 

Evie quickly offered to act as chaperon so that Cecily might see Cullen back to the guest wing to say good-night. As soon as they were out of anyone’s sight Cecily’s sister slowed her steps, falling further and further behind the couple, whistling tunelessly and looking up at the ceiling.

Cecily laughed affectionately at her sister’s antics, then remembered dinner and reached out to squeeze Cullen’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Evie warned me that Lyssa is a bit, well, sheltered.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Cullen lied. “And your parents haven’t thrown me out on my ear. I’ll take that as a good sign. Although I don’t know what to make of the fact that they have me sleeping apart from you, or that we’re supposed to have someone supervise us when we’re alone.”

“It’s meant to do you honor,” Cecily assured him. “If they put you in my chambers and let us go around without an escort, they would be treating you like a lowborn lover, rather than a suitor of rank and an important guest in your own right.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. That single syllable contained a great deal of amused exasperation at the ways of the nobility, at the idea that letting him sleep with the woman he loved might be interpreted as a grave insult. “And you? I did not hear much of the conversation with your parents.”

“I don’t think I realized how strange this would be,” Cecily admitted ruefully. “It is rather like you with your family. I love them, but they have so many questions and there is much I would rather not tell them. And I suspect we are all trying too hard.” She glanced at her sister, who was now a good twenty paces behind them, having become unaccountably fascinated by a wall sconce near the stairwell. “Except for Evie, of course.”

Cullen looked back at Evie, genuine fondness on his face. “Indeed. Remind me to have the Inquisition issue her an official commendation.”

“Alongside one for Mia, I hope,” Cecily said with a grin, raising on her toes to kiss him.

She had only intended for it to be a brief, warm good-night kiss, but she couldn’t resist sliding her arms around his neck, pulling him close and taking comfort in his solid frame. Cullen’s arms wrapped her tight and he returned the kiss eagerly, briefly teasing her tongue with his before he pulled away.

“I don’t suppose we could ask your parents to treat me as your lowborn lover?” he suggested.

Cecily laughed. “Only if we don’t tell Josephine.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen bid Cecily good-night with considerable reluctance. When the door between them was shut, he paced around the room for a moment before unbuttoning his formal coat, tossing it onto the top of his traveling trunk, and sitting down to rest his face in his hands.

_But she’s still Bann Alexander’s daughter, and he’s still …_

_Still a farmer’s son, and a lyrium addict, and a failed Templar._

Bann Alexander and Lady Trevelyan had been courteous in front of Cecily. But he could not shake the worry that underneath those courtesies, they too thought he was no fit match for their daughter.

He knew Cecily’s opinion was the one that counted. He knew he should not care what her parents thought, no matter how much she loved them, or how much they loved her. And yet he could not help but care.

_Two weeks. In two weeks we can go home. I can survive two weeks._


	5. The Trevelyans

The Trevelyans outfitted themselves for their hunt shortly after breakfast the next morning. Birds, apparently, were the favored game for genteel hunting among the Marcher nobility, and the Trevelyans' regular hunting spot was a pleasant little meadow surrounded by tall trees. Cullen accepted the proffered bow and arrows, although he quickly realized that he would not be able to keep pace with either Evie or Bann Alexander. The Inquisition’s Commander was used to aiming at larger—and more armored—targets. He was grateful, however, that the sport gave him an excuse to say very little. Meanwhile, Cecily and her mother began spreading out blankets for their picnic, then sat down to watch the hunt and to talk. Cullen couldn’t help but wonder if Cecy was receiving any gentle advice on finding _suitable_ potential mates.

Evie and the Bann evidently had an ongoing competition about who could shoot down the largest bird. Two hours later the Bann appeared to have won—until a particularly fat pheasant fell to Evie’s bow just as they were headed back to the picnic spot. “You won’t beat that one!” she crowed.

“You only win if you find the bird,” the Bann scolded her. “And it fell rather far away. I don’t like your chances.” His expression was merry; he was obviously proud of his daughter.

“Cecy! Please help me,” Evie called to her sister. “He’s won the last two, and if it’s three in a row he’ll be insufferably pleased with himself.”

Cecily laughed and stood. “Very well. We’ll find your bird,” she said. “Cullen? Would you care to aid my sister’s cause?”

“Oh no,” the Bann said loudly. “That scarcely seems fair. Come, Commander. Rest a bit and let me savor at least the hope of a victory.”

“Besides, I am starving and I insist we open this marvelous lunch we’ve been packed,” Lady Trevelyan said. “Join us.”

With more than a bit of trepidation, Cullen nodded—for there was no graceful way to refuse. “I will, thank you, Lady Trevelyan. But I do wish you the best of luck, Lady Evelyn.” He hoped his tone sounded calm, but he could see Cecy’s brow furrow a bit as her sister dragged her away.

Cullen sat down on the blanket and watched as Lady Trevelyan unfastened the lid of the picnic basket. For a moment he thought this would merely be another period of awkward silence, but then the Bann cleared his throat.

“Commander. While the girls are occupied, might we have a word with you?”

Cullen’s throat constricted. “Of course,” he managed.

“I am sorry about Lyssa’s somewhat artless comments over dinner last night,” Lady Trevelyan said, resting her hands on the basket.

“But perhaps it is best to have these things out in the open,” the Bann continued seriously. “I’m sure you realize that a farmer’s son is not a typical suitor for a Bann’s daughter.”

 _Maker. Please, let them simply get this over with,_ Cullen thought desperately. He gritted his teeth and tried to think of how to tell these people that he was not going anywhere.

Lady Trevelyan met his eyes. “When Cecy was a girl, Alex and I had such fanciful plans for her future—we pictured her as an Arlessa, perhaps, or maybe even a Viscountess or Princess.”

“It was vanity, of course. But we also knew she could do great things if given the chance,” the Bann said seriously.

“And then we learned Cecily would have to live out her days in a Circle.” Sophia’s eyes dropped to her hands. “I wept every day for a year when she went away. I am ashamed to say that I cried some of those tears because my daughter was a mage. I thought she had done something wrong, or that we had. Eventually I saw the truth, though. That she was still my Cecy, and even though she’d done no one any wrong, she would never be returned to us.”

“I struggled as well. I even asked our friend the Knight-Commander if Cecy could come home if she were made Tranquil,” Bann Alexander said, reaching out and placing a hand on his wife’s arm. “I did not know what that meant. I thought it simply turned a mage into, well, not a mage. My friend very sternly set me straight, praise Andraste.”

“For a time during the mage rebellion, we wondered if she might be dead,” Sophia continued. “And then to have her reappear as the Inquisitor—well, to be perfectly honest I am still not sure what to make of that." She let out an anxious little laugh. "We knew she was capable of great things, but I never imagined her doing such dangerous ones. I cannot tell you what it means to see her safe, and to have her home.”

Lady Trevelyan’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, and the Bann’s face tightened with remembered worry. For a moment, Cullen felt strangely close to both of them. He knew rather too well what it was like to know Cecily faced danger, to wonder if he would ever see her again.

“Which is a very long way of saying, Commander, that after so much, all we want is for Cecy to be happy and part of our lives again,” the Bann said simply. “We would never risk that by trying to come between her and someone she loves. I can see that you are ill at ease here, and I cannot deny that you will face some puzzlement from certain branches of our family. But please be assured that if you love Cecy, and treat her well, you will always be welcome in our home.”

After a very long silence, Cullen finally found his voice. “I do love her. Sometimes it seems as if ‘love’ is not a strong enough word for what I feel. I … thank you. I will admit that is not what I expected you to say.”

“Commander, I must know. What would you have said if we had told you we wanted you to stop courting our daughter?” Sophia asked dryly.

“I was still trying to find a way to tell you that I did not care, without ruining this visit for her,” he confessed.

The Bann threw back his head and laughed. “Well. Sophia and I have experience with that.”

Cullen’s brow furrowed. “I thought your match was arranged by your parents?”

“The story of how Alexander and I met is not quite as straightforward as we’ve told our daughters,” Sophia said conspiratorially. “The truth is that my parents hoped I would catch the eye of Alex’s older brother Maxwell. He was a lovely man, but the moment Alex and I met—well. My parents could have introduced me to King Maric himself and I would not have been swayed.”

Alex took her hand. “I knew right away as well.”

“My parents tried for months to talk me into shifting my affections to the elder son and heir. All for naught, I’m happy to say,” Sophia continued.

“And then Maxwell died.” Alexander frowned unhappily at the memory. “ _My_ parents suddenly felt that their heir ought to have a grander match. A particular Arl’s daughter was suddenly on the guest list of every party I attended. But I would not give up my Sophia.”

“So we know very well that there is little parents can do to stand in the way of two people who truly wish to be together,” Sophia said. “But, if it will put your mind at ease, I will tell you that we would not be unhappy to introduce the Inquisition’s Commander as our son-in-law—if that is what you intend?” She arched one dark brow.

Cullen shifted his shoulders. “I … ah. I have not asked her.”

The Bann nodded; he seemed to sense the unspoken _yet_. “Given the stories we’ve heard about what Cecily does with the Inquisition, we are _very_ glad that her preferred suitor is someone who knows which end of a sword to hold,” he said wryly. “Now then. Cecy was a bit circumspect about certain things last night. Perhaps _you_ can tell me why my daughter has been fighting dragons?”

 

* * *

 

Cecily could have sworn that Evie’s bird fell to the earth near a small copse of trees, but Evie insisted that it had fallen further out in the field and began her search there. It was many long minutes before Evie allowed Cecy to check in the spot she’d suggested—where, finally, they found Evie’s pheasant, punctured cleanly through the neck.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to torture poor Cullen,” Cecily scolded her sister as she put the bird into her game bag.

Evie winced a bit. Cecily’s eyes widened. “Evie!”

“I _may_ have been trying to give Mother and Father an opportunity to speak with him,” her sister admitted.

“So they could say _what,_ exactly?” Cecily demanded.

“To tell him he can stop clenching his jaw every time they look in his direction,” Evie teased. “I can’t believe you found someone even more serious than you are.”

“Evie,” Cecily said warningly. “What. Are. They. Saying?”

Evie put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Cecy. I told them that after darling Lyssa’s comments last night they had to make things explicit—they had to tell him, in so many words, that they won’t mind who his parents are so long as he makes you happy. They’re probably planning your wedding as we speak. I hope your Commander has good taste in bridal flowers.”

“They wouldn't really bring up marriage,” Cecily said, appalled.

“Make up your mind!” Evie scolded playfully. “First you’re worried that they won’t like him, now you’re worried that they’ll be too enthusiastic about making him their son-in-law. Which is it?”

Cecily couldn’t help laughing. “You are infuriating, do you know that? Secure your bag. We’re going back.”

She only barely kept from running to the picnic site. She knew Evie wouldn’t lie to her, but Maker’s breath, that couldn’t help but be an awkward conversation. _Poor Cullen._

To her surprise, the first noise they heard as they drew closer was her father’s laughter. “I half thought Cecy was making it up to distract us from all the danger she was in. He really threw goats at your keep?”

“Indeed.” Cullen’s voice was warm with amusement. “Apparently it is the custom of the Avaar to paint an enemy’s keep with goat’s blood. However, this particular chieftain decided to signal his contempt for his son’s actions by using live goats.” The Commander chuckled. “I was only observing but I barely made it through the judgment without bursting out laughing. I don’t know how Cecy kept a straight face.”

“I insist on hearing this story from the beginning,” Evie said as they reached the edge of the blanket.

“Did I not mention this in my letters?” Cecily asked.

“Oh, you did. But I’d like to hear the Commander’s version.” Evie sat down next to her mother and gave Lady Trevelyan a look—a raised-eyebrows, _so-how-did-it-go_ look.

Lady Trevelyan smiled and patted her younger daughter’s hand reassuringly. “The Commander has skillfully deflected our questions about your dragon-hunting, Cecy.”

“Well done,” Cecily said, sitting down next to Cullen and giving him a grateful—and apologetic—smile.

His answering smile was so warm and carefree that tears pricked at the back of Cecily’s eyes. She had known he was anxious about this visit, but she hadn’t realized just _how_ anxious until she saw his face without that worry present. She took his hand and squeezed it, then turned to look at her parents.

 _Thank you,_ she mouthed silently.

Almost in unison, her parents reached for each others’ hands and beamed fondly at her. The tears welled up again, but Cecily tossed them back and smiled brightly. “I hope Cullen didn’t tell you _all_ of the best stories about the Inquisition while we were gone,” she said.

“Somehow I doubt that’s possible,” Bann Alexander said dryly.


	6. Home

The rest of the two weeks passed much more easily after that. There were still awkward moments, however, such as the afternoon Cullen overheard Evie and Sophia arguing about the planned formal dinner party in their honor.

“Tell them Cecy is sick or that she was called back to Skyhold unexpectedly. But you cannot put them through that, Mother,” Evie insisted, as Cullen shrank back in the hallway and tried to decide if he could escape without being seen. “It will be dinner with Lyssa all over again, except instead of one Lyssa there will be twenty.”

“None of our relations would dare be discourteous to the Commander in our home. He is our guest! And everyone wants to see Cecy again,” her mother said crisply, as if that settled things.

Cullen silently prayed to Andraste to give Evie a good counterargument. _Dinner with twenty Lyssas? Maker._

“No, everyone wants to attend their next ball and brag that they were invited to dine with the Inquisitor,” Evie responded. “They don’t care about _Cecy_ at all. Remember, half of these people wouldn’t say two words to us after they found out she was a mage.”

“She is not wrong, my love,” Bann Alexander commented from his armchair.

Silence fell in the room for a moment as Sophia considered this. Finally, Evie let out a sharp little sigh. “Very well. I hoped it would not come to this. Mother, if you cancel the dinner party, I will go riding with that new Bann you like so much. I will even promise to keep Strider at a canter or slower.”

“Trot or slower,” Sophia bargained. “And no tricks—the promise holds for any horse you ride, not just Strider.”

“I’m becoming predictable,” Evie said mournfully. “Done.”

The Commander made a mental note to do something extremely nice for Evie.

Other challenges appeared—an indignant query from Lyssa’s parents about Cullen’s rank and background, calling cards and unannounced visits from distant Trevelyan relatives who wanted favors from the Inquisition, even a clumsy attempt by an Arl to ascertain if Cecily was unattached and available to be courted. Cullen supposed a rational man would have been put off by the idea of marrying into such a tangled network of noble games. Instead, he found himself thinking more and more about asking Cecily to be his wife. For one thing, now that he knew Cecily’s parents would accept him, the main reason he  _hadn't_ asked yet was gone. For another, even though the Trevelyans had been far more welcoming than he’d feared, he was determined never to sleep in their guest wing again.

Cecily appeared to be having some of the same thoughts on that front, at least. When the two weeks were up and they boarded the ship back to Ferelden, the moment they closed the door to their small cabin she wrapped her arms around his waist, kissed him passionately, and said, “ _Maker,_ I missed you.”

“We saw each other every day,” Cullen teased, sliding his own arms around her.

“But not alone,” she pointed out. “And you’ve been positively heroic these past two weeks. I can never thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” Cullen said sincerely. “I am glad to have met your family. I—I had put it off for too long.”

Cecily arched an eyebrow. “You mean I wasn’t imagining you changing the subject every time I mentioned the Free Marches?”

“You were not,” Cullen admitted. He brushed her hair back from her face—and then somehow, he found himself saying it. “Cecy. There was a great deal of talk in Ostwick, and in South Reach, about—about us, our future. From everyone except you and me, it seemed.”

Her brow furrowed. “Did it bother you?”

He shook his head. “No, not exactly. But I’ve been thinking that I—I would like it very much if the next time we went to Ostwick, or the next time we saw my family, there were no more questions about what our future will hold. If—if our future were settled beyond question.”

She went very still. “You mean if we were married,” she said, her voice soft and a bit uneven.

Cullen nodded, his stomach suddenly tight with nerves, wondering what she would say.

Then Cecily met his gaze, her eyes bright and her smile warm. Cullen’s heart always beat faster when she looked at him that way—as if his mere existence delighted her. “I suppose I’ve never brought it up because I considered our future already settled, in a way,” she said, a bit sheepishly. “After everything that’s happened at the Inquisition, it seemed almost—well, almost trivial, to say some words in public just to convince everyone else of what we already know.” She reached up and cupped his face in her hand. “But it’s not, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” He bent his head to kiss her.

“And that was not a proposal, by the way,” he added several minutes later. “When I ask you to marry me, we’ll be someplace much more romantic than a tiny cabin in the bottom of a military transport vessel.” He chuckled a bit. “And then I’ll fumble what I mean to say and you’ll probably end up asking me.”

“Or perhaps I’ll simply say yes. I’ll know what you mean,” Cecily said warmly. “So. Perhaps we should get on with making up for lost time these past weeks?”

Cullen grinned, tightened his arms around her, and pulled her towards the bed.

 

* * *

 

It seemed as if they had barely gotten through the gates at Skyhold before everyone descended upon them at once.

“Well done! You survived!” Dorian shook Cullen’s hand enthusiastically. “I knew you had it in you.” He turned to Cecily and gave her an affectionate, brotherly kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you again."

“Uck. You still smell like Lord and Lady Fancy-Pants,” Sera informed them, wrinkling her nose. “Glad you’re back before they ruined you for good.”

“Where did they have you sleep, Commander? I should have prepared you for Marcher customs with suitors,” Josephine said, shaking her head with self-reproach.

Cassandra heaved a sigh. “Do not blame yourself. It would be impossible to prepare the Commander for all of the nonsense one must expect in a noble household. No offense to your family intended, Inquisitor.”

“None taken,” Cecily assured her.

“About time you got here, boss,” The Iron Bull said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Hope you didn’t go soft from all that pampering. I’ve got a stack of reports waiting for you.”

Cecily groaned. The former Ben-Hassrath had been the obvious candidate to take over Leliana’s spy network, but he had readily admitted that he was better with individual assignments than with the big picture. The task of keeping track of the larger game had fallen to Cecily—and after some training from Leliana, she was actually quite good at it. Still, it was rather a lot of paperwork to cope with sometimes.

The Iron Bull gave her a knowing grin. “Crofter’s reports over the past two weeks were very interesting. I put those somewhere in the middle of the pile as a reward.”

“I don’t know whether to be delighted or terrified that you and Evie are conspiring,” Cecily said, shaking her head.

“Both,” Cullen suggested.

Cole hung back, watching the two of them, but smiled when Cecily met his gaze. “I am relieved and glad that you are back,” he said.

It was one of Cole’s more human sentences. Cecily suspected he had not shared his own thoughts, however, but hers. Or, judging from the look Cullen gave the spirit boy, perhaps the Commander’s.

“Did I say something that bothers you?” Cole asked, worried.

“No,” Cullen assured him, taking Cecily’s hand. He met her eyes briefly. “I—we are relieved and glad as well.”

And with that, the Inquisitor and the Commander walked arm and arm into Skyhold, surrounded by their strange little family of circumstance and choice, and let themselves be welcomed home.


	7. Epilogue

_Dear Mia,_

_The visit to Ostwick went rather better than I had feared. Cecily’s parents were very hospitable, and even told me that so long as I make their daughter happy I will be welcome among them. I am writing to our parents with this news so they can stop worrying about the Bann trying to have me killed in my sleep (or whatever grisly fate they have been imagining)._

_I am planning to ask Cecily to marry me. Do you have any advice?_

_Love, Cullen_

_PS—Please do not tell our parents that I am going to propose, as this will only make them worry about Cecy's answer._

* 

_Dear Cullen,_

_I cannot tell you how happy your last letter made me. You are right to wait to tell our parents, but I have no doubt about what Cecily will say when you ask. Emma and William will be beside themselves with joy to call her their aunt. (So will Thomas, when he’s old enough to say the words properly.)_

_I cannot imagine what counsel I could give on proposing to a woman who has killed ~~six~~ seven dragons. But Cecily has a sister, does she not? If she seems the approachable sort, perhaps you might write to her for advice on Marcher customs? _

_The only other advice I will offer is this: ask her soon. I love you, but you will over-think this if you plan too long._

_Love, Mia_

*

_Dear Lady Evelyn,_

_I hope you will not mind me writing to you out of the blue, but I find myself in need of information and advice. Are there any Marcher traditions surrounding marriage proposals? (You can guess why I am inquiring, I suspect.)_

_Fereldens usually just ask, which is practical, but somewhat unromantic._

_Best regards,_

_Cullen_

_*_

_Dear Cullen,_

_“Lady Evelyn?” Just for that I was tempted to tell you that Marchers traditionally propose standing on their heads, or give their betrothed an engagement nug. But then I realized that Cecy would string me up by my thumbs. Besides, I like the idea of you as my brother-in-law. So I’ll tell you the truth: Marchers usually just ask as well._

_If you are looking for something a bit more interesting, it used to be common to offer one’s intended a small bouquet of a favorite flower. That is considered slightly old-fashioned now but I believe Cecy would like it very much._

_Love, Evie_

_PS—No matter how you ask, she will say yes._

* * *

 

On a bright, clear day two weeks after he received Evie’s letter, Cullen recruited Dorian, Josephine, Cole, and Cassandra to help him with a large shipment he had ordered to Skyhold in secret. When their task was done, they departed Cullen’s office at staggered intervals, hoping to hide the fact that they had all been conspiring. Then Cullen sat down at his desk, pretended to focus on the latest troop reports, and waited for Cecily to interrupt him.

She was later than usual and for a while he shook his head at his bad luck, to have chosen one of the days when her duties would not spare her until the evening. But at last she knocked at his door and told him he had worked hard enough that day and so had she. He said he needed just a moment and suggested she wait outside, trying to pretend everything was normal. When she stepped onto the battlements, he waited for the door to close behind her and then pushed it open again, moving carefully so its hinges would not squeak and give him away.

As far as Cullen knew Cecily did not have a particular favorite flower. He had recruited Dorian to ask her but the Inquisitor, ever duty-minded, had apparently said “elfroot” (which was not even a flower, as Dorian pointed out in a _very_ aggrieved tone when he reported back to Cullen). So the Commander and his co-conspirators had lined the battlements with every blossom he could get to Skyhold on short notice. Everything from lavender to crystal grace and embrium and daisies and even a bit of elfroot had made their way into the bouquets, creating a riot of colors. Also, they had run short of vases at the end, so some of the flowers were nestled in bowls and wine bottles and a few battered helmets. The effect was somewhat chaotic, but right now Cullen could not imagine anything lovelier than the sight of Cecily surrounded by flowers.

He watched her take it all in, wondered if she would recognize the old Marcher custom in this display. After a long moment, she turned back to the door, and her smile was bright and brilliant. He felt his own smile grow to match as he stepped towards her and took her hands.

“Cullen, this is beautiful,” she whispered.

“I cannot take complete credit,” he admitted. “I had help—and Evie inspired the idea when I asked her about Marcher traditions.”

Cecily laughed. “So _that’s_ why Dorian was suddenly so interested in my taste in floral arrangements.” She tightened her fingers in his, her eyes never leaving his face.

Cullen took a breath. He had practiced many versions of this speech—had even considered writing to Varric in Kirkwall for help crafting the words. But then he had remembered Mia’s advice, and Evie’s, and decided to simply say what he felt.

“I love you, Cecily. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—I want that more than I have ever wanted anything. Will you marry me?”

He knew her answer. But it still meant the world to hear it out loud.

“Yes. I can’t imagine anything I want more, either. Yes.” She giggled sheepishly, her eyes sparkling. “I already said that, didn’t I?”

“You did. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it a few more times just to be sure,” Cullen murmured.

She stepped closer and slid her arms around his waist, then stood on her toes to brush her lips against his. “In that case, yes.” Another kiss. “Yes.”

When she kissed him a third time, Cullen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other sliding into her hair. As the kiss began to deepen, Cecily pulled back just a fraction.

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth.

That was the last thing either of them said for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who read this and left comments and kudos! I wasn't sure where this was going when I started posting it, but it meant so much to hear that people enjoyed it :)


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